


The Problem of Phillip

by cyprith



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:26:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyprith/pseuds/cyprith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip is a problem. Perhaps one that requires a more... tactile approach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem of Phillip

**Author's Note:**

> barefootwithneonhands prompted: Phillip’s more scared of Diaval.

Subtle discouragement hadn’t worked. The boy took to falling worms and rains of stones as though that sort of thing happened _every_ day in whatever ridiculous human kingdom it was he hailed from.

Although, perhaps it did! Suspicious looking little blighter that he was— _clearly_ a robber of nests—perhaps all the sensible ravens of the world followed him about with stones in their beaks. Diaval wouldn’t blame ‘em if they did.

And Maleficent was the _worst_ sort of unhelpful. Every time he brought it up—their dear, sweet Aurora pestered and _plagued_ —she only rolled her eyes at him.

“She’s nearly eighteen, Diaval,” she’d say. “She can do this without you, Diaval.”

Stuff and nonsense! Obvious and rampant malarkey! And just—just _wrong._ Clearly _wrong_. Lovely child that she was, Aurora needed… needed a guide, if you will, through the tricksy corridors of maleness. And if, perhaps, her guide should say to avoid such corridors entirely, well, what of it? He only had her best interests in mind.

And so, worms and potentially empty nests aside, Diaval found himself unhelpfully left with the problem of Phillip.

Perhaps, he decided, he needed a more… _tactile_ approach.

—

When next the boy darkened their lovely patch of forest, Diaval took a perch on Phillip’s shoulder. Immediately, the boy went still and very carefully did not flinch. Smart little sneak-thief that he was, he didn’t relax even when Aurora came bounding through the trees.

Diaval allowed himself a moment of pride at that. You didn’t need a dragon or—or a _dog_ to do a _raven_ ’s job. He could be intimidating enough all by his own self, thanks very much, and just to make sure the boy knew it, Diaval gripped his shoulder a wee touch tighter.

Clambering over briars and fallen branches, Aurora grinned like a beam of sunshine. And though years and years had passed, to Diaval’s eyes, her summer freckles like constellations kissing her cheeks, she stood just the same little wildling he’d ever chased through grass and trees.  

“Phillip!” she called. “You’re just in time.”

“Oh?” the boy managed, through a certain tightness of throat.

Aurora grinned. “The selkies have come up river. They said they’ll teach us how to swim!”

Selkies, now—there were an _honorable_ bunch. When you knew where one kept his skin, you knew where you stood. Not like humans, with their discardable, meaningless pelts. If she were swimming with selkies, then Diaval most definitely approved.

Although, speaking of _humans_ , the one beneath his claws gave a little twitch. “Sounds lovely,” he said and Diaval leaned in, just close enough to graze beak-tip to oh-so-tender fleshy ear.

Aurora laughed. “Then come on!”

Wisely, the boy did not move. “I can’t.”

“Why ever not?”

Sneak thief of sneaky thievery, the boy tossed him without even a _moment’s_ hesitation to the metaphorical dogs. “He’s going to bite me!”

At first, his lovely sunshine child blinked. “Who?” she asked. And then, _realizing who_ , her face darkened not unlike Maleficent at war. “Oh, Father, _off_ ,” she snapped. “I am old enough to fight my own battles, thank you. _Especially_ with a boy who couldn’t find his way through the Moors if you gave him a map. Go on! Off with you, go!”

 _Father_?

Diaval felt his feathered chest swell tight enough to burst. But then, given the way Aurora _glared_ at him, _burst_ it well might.

For a moment, he considered protesting. After all, he’d practically raised her from an egg— _certainly_ he knew better than her the wicked whiles of men—but Aurora leveled an icy stare and a warning finger at him, a bit of the magic Maleficent had taught her coiling in her palm.

Diaval reconsidered, opting for strategic retreat instead.

—

Even so, a bird couldn’t help but feel a bit _proud_ , you know. And perhaps it didn’t require _quite_ so much fluffing and strutting but, well…

“What _has_ gotten into you?” Maleficent asked with a quiet little smile, flicking her fingers to turn him man-shaped again.

Diaval couldn’t help but grin. “She called me _Father_ ,” he said and though he hadn’t any feathers like this, still, he felt his human chest puff quite a bit.

Maleficent only rolled her eyes. “You speak as though you’re _not_ ,” she said.

And Diaval decided he might like Phillip, for all that.

Well, a _little_. 


End file.
